


Snow

by stardust_made



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-14
Updated: 2011-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:09:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardust_made/pseuds/stardust_made
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected hostage is taken when Sherlock ruins John's plans for a perfect morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow

  
John wakes up to twenty inches of snow and his mood goes from good to fantastic. He doesn’t care about the inevitable chaos. He’s not seen proper snow in ten years and he’s always loved snow! _And_ it’s his day off. A nice cup of tea first, with a slice of toast, then a long walk in the winter wonderland of Regent’s Park and finally the paper by the fire. John nods happily to himself and heads downstairs.

Sherlock’s coat and scarf are in, but he is missing. What’s also missing is every single cup and glass they have. John stares at the empty shelves and then his head drops in resignation. After a minute, he calls Mrs. Hudson. She’s out.

He contemplates drinking his tea from a bowl, but feels ridiculous. He is _not_ a domestic animal, regardless of the fact that the geniuses in his acquaintance seem to consider him one.

Milk from the bottle it will be then. John reaches for the bread.

Only to find it drenched in ink.

He stands by the window to breathe. He presses his forehead onto the cool glass and his eyes watch the patterns of his breath on the surface, snow glittering in the background.

Then he has an idea.

***

Three hours later Sherlock bounces in dry as a bone, only his cheeks and eyes glowing. He is waving a piece of jewellery and starts with “I have been able to locate—“, then stops abruptly at the sight of his violin case laid demonstratively on the table. He opens it to find it empty. Sherlock looks at John, who is reading his paper in his cosiest jumper, his own cheeks and nose flushed.

“What does this mean?” Sherlock asks, genuinely confused.

“What? Oh. This came for you.” John hands him an envelope.

Sherlock eyes him as if he’s itching to get his magnifier out, then opens the envelope to find a printed picture.

On it there is a snowman. He’s your average snowman from children’s books: small stones for eyes, pennies for buttons, a carrot for his nose. Someone’s been thorough. There are, however, three anomalies that set him apart from his fellow snowmen. One is that he’s got Sherlock’s scarf around his neck. The second is that he’s got some twigs for eyebrows and they look very displeased.

The third is that Sherlock’s violin is propped carefully between the spot where the shoulder would be and the stick that serves for the left arm.

Sherlock turns to John, speechless. Only the top of John’s head is visible over the paper, but Sherlock hears his soft voice clearly:

“He called and said that if our cups weren’t returned by five o’clock today, he’ll start pulling the strings one by one on the hour. All the strings will be cut immediately if you go to the police. Oh, and he said it would be pointless to look for him— you’d find that it’s as if he’d literally melted away.”

Sherlock just stands there, without as much as a peep coming out off him. Then he slowly pushes the paper down and meets John’s innocently tilted face, not a trace of peevishness about it. Sherlock looks at him like he cannot believe his eyes. Then a smile starts stretching his lips and in a few seconds the room is filled with the sound of his deep chuckle, the one that rises directly from his chest.

“Fancy coming to the shops with me?” Sherlock asks when he’s gone back to just smiling. 

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by the fantastic disastrolabe. Original entry at my Livejournal at http://stardust-made.livejournal.com/12193.html


End file.
